


Lycanthropy and Ortolans

by tofuelyourradiance



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Hannibal has to take care of Will, M/M, Morally Grey Will, Non Human Will Graham, Werewolf AU, Werewolf! Will, theres some sexual stuff coming up but im bad at tagging, youve been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofuelyourradiance/pseuds/tofuelyourradiance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Randall Tier's attack, Will is injured. He's felt funny ever since, and perhaps this is more than he or Dr. Lecter ever bargained for...</p><p>(Because it takes place right after Tier's attack, everything that happens subsequent to Will displaying Tier is au. There will be parallels.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lycanthropy and Ortolans

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, this is my first ever published fic... I hope you'll like it. 
> 
> Just a disclaimer, I suffer from pretty severe depression and anxiety and my ability to write will ebb and flow according to how I feel. I may post a lot sometimes, other chapters I may be a bit slower publishing.

Will's first conscious thought was eclipsed by the ache that encompassed his body. He felt as though each limb and sinew were ready to fall away from each other, and it took a long while before Will was even slightly aware of his surroundings.

He focused on the cool tile which his body lay on, bringing minimal but still welcome relief. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Will realised he was naked (What on earth happened to me?),but that seemed the least of his worries. He tried to look around and see where he was, but there was a massive weight upon Will's neck that he simply hadn't the strength to lift. Already incredibly pained, Will simply moved his gaze around in an attempt to figure out what was going on.

He was aware of the tile, of bright fluorescent lights. Will saw what he thought seemed like different cutting tools hanging on a wall across from him. If he'd been up to normal capacity, Will would have already tried to escape this place- it certainly wasn't somewhere he needed to be, that was for certain; however, the pain and exhaustion he felt coupled with the sheer confusion of not knowing how he'd gotten here kept him from doing much other than laying in a sad pile on the floor.

After a very long time lost in his own head, Will slowly became aware that he wasn't alone. About ten feet away, sitting lone in a chair, was Dr. Lecter. His gaze was transfixed upon Will, and under the unforgiving lighting his delicate eyebrows and harsh structure gave way to a skeletal facade that sent a shiver up Will's pained spine. How long had he been there?

"Hello, Will."

Hannibal's greeting hung in the air unanswered. Finally Will broke the silence. 

"What...did...you do to me?," he gasped. His throat, parched, was still under what felt like a massive weight. Pain roared in Will's body as he went to feel what it was.

A collar?

Will felt around his neck, fingers touching a thick metal collar. He ran his fingers along until he found the beginning of a chain--

The hair on his neck stood on end at the thought of being alone with Hannibal, unable to escape, much less move. Will's heart beat faster upon remembering the Ripper's prior victims and what fates they had incurred.

Hannibal's gaze was unwavering. "I saved us both from you. Or at least a part of you. Lycanthropes are prone to wanton violence with little regard of the consequences... I find it interesting that you ended up at my house. Tell me, Will, how long have you been a werewolf, and did you intend to tell me?"

Will sneered. "I may not be the most stable, Dr. Lecter, but I know a lie when I hear it." He let out a few pained gasps after, every muscle in his body seeming to inflame even at the small effort it took to speak.

"I'm assuming you haven't been one for long, considering the physical toll you've taken in the simple act of transforming back to yourself. Perhaps, if you aren't lying to me, you may be only now realising what you have become." Hannibal walked over to him, his stature shadowing over Will's, causing him to flinch. Will hated himself for showing any fear, but he knew what Hannibal was capable of, and was well aware of his own frailty at the moment. Will felt a cool hand caress his shoulder and stroke his back gently. Hannibal laid out Will's arm, exposing his inner elbow. "I'm going to give you something for the pain."

Hannibal drew a syringe with the opposite hand, and with it pressed into Will's skin. Will was so preoccupied with his confusion and pain that he was hardly aware of the needle piercing his skin. A moment later he felt a huge relief on his neck as Hannibal removed his restraint. Will attempted to sit up, but he collapsed under his own weight in a matter of seconds. Hannibal caught him, and hoisted his arms under Will's back and legs in a bridal carry. Will's head hung without argument, too overcome by weakness to put up a fight. He was sure whatever Hannibal intended would mean his end, and yet, he had been fighting for so long...the thought of dying seemed more a release than something to dread. Will let himself drift, the pain seeping from his body.

\-----

Will awoke to the feeling of luxurious sheets and the sight of Dr. Lecter. He realised he was lying in Hannibal's bed, the doctor sitting across the room in a chair, sketching into a leather bound notebook. This was hardly what he'd expected to see, assuming he ever woke up.

A sudden pang of humility swam over him, remembering he was naked, now lying in his psychiatrist's bed, but upon further inspection he realised that he was wearing one of Hannibal's robes. The monogrammed letters HL lay atop his breast. Had the man who'd only recently framed Will for murder dress him and tuck him into bed, as though he were a child?

Hannibal looked up from his sketching. "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

Will gingerly put his weight on his elbows and slowly shifted up, the ache and exhaustion still overtaking his body;though, perhaps, just slightly less than before. "How long was I out for?," Will mumbled groggily, still trying to make sense of the situation.

"About a day. You need your rest while your body acclimates to your new state of being." Just then, Will vaguely recalled something about being called a werewolf. Hannibal saw the distrust in Will's eyes as he walked over and sat beside him on the bed. "Look up, Will. In the mirror."

Will did as he was told, and found his reflection staring back at him from the mirror Hannibal had above his bed. Hannibal untied Will's robe and slid it off his shoulders, baring Will's naked arms and torso. Will felt another pang of shyness, but he was too tired to put up a fight.

The first thing Will noticed was the notable amount of hair that now adorned his frame.  
He rubbed his formerly near bare chest, feeling brown curls resembling that of his hair. After a few moments, Hannibal put his hand on Will's left side, parting the hair to reveal a deep gash that was partially healed and beginning to scar.

"Where did you get this, Will?"

Will hesitated, his mind blanking from the shock. "I...uhh. I believe that was Randall Tier, when he came to attack me at my house." 

Hannibal's brow furrowed, but not in disbelief. "It would seem Mr. Tier left you with more than just a scratch. He may very well have been the cause of your transformation." Hannibal paused for a moment, deep in thought. "I suppose he finally found a cure of his dysphoric nature, though at so many other's expense. I'm sorry, Will."

Will searched Hannibal's gaze for any sign of amusement or dishonesty, but he could find none. He seemed genuinely remorseful. "You took no issue sending him my way," Will tried to say forcefully, but it came out not much more forceful than a whimper.

"I knew you could best him. I was confident that killing Randall would help you find yourself. Perhaps, in a way, he has helped more than I ever could have imagined." Hannibal saw the scrutiny in Will's eyes. "You don't allow yourself to revel in your own becoming, and yet your nature seems to pull you further and further parallel to my own."

Will pulled the robe back over himself and slid his head back down onto the pillow, perplexed. "I never took you for one to subscribe in the supernatural, Dr. Lecter." There was a twinge of searching in his voice, as if he really, desperately, needed to hear Hannibal admitting it was all an elaborate lie.

"One would be foolish not to accept what you have seen with your own eyes," Hannibal said, and Will thought the statement particularly ironic coming from the man who coercively pushed Will's own hallucinations in the past. Yet, as much as he wanted to wave off the idea as ridiculous, he had no explanation for the hair, the pain, the memory lapse leading up to being chained...

"Hey, um... what exactly happened before I woke up in chains?," Will asked. It had occurred to him that despite so much that had happened, he'd failed to ask the obvious question.

"Two nights ago I awoke to the sound of glass shattering. When I went to investigate, a giant canine was prowling around. That was you, Will. You were absolutely feral and of course I didn't know it was you at first, but when we made eye contact... There was just something so familiar in your eyes. I am so glad I didn't kill you before realising."

Hannibal paused, his eyes searching Will's to see if any memories had resurfaced. Will simply looked back, his eyes wide in a slow growth of horror. His brown locks stuck to his forehead with sweat, and Hannibal gently swept them to the side. His cool hand felt welcome on Will's skin.

"You know, Will, you've felt unwell the past week. The high temperature, upset stomach, odd cravings, they could all very well have been symptoms of lycanthropy. I've been reading some different lore while you were resting, and while there's no real way to know what is fact right now, it would seem you at least follow the general traits of werewolves." Hannibal opened his sketch book to reveal a pencil drawing of a wolflike canine with dark and wavy hair, not unlike Will's, and piercing eyes. "That's you, Will. Only by a quick hand did I even manage to restrain you, and at much threat to my life."

Will was listening, mouth agape as he tried to follow Hannibal's story. Despite saying for so long that he wanted to kill Hannibal, he felt nauseous in the pit of his stomach at the thought of him being gone. 

"I... I don't remember any of this, I never tried to hurt--" 

Hannibal laid his hand over Will's. "I'm not angry. Nor did I expect you to remember. From what I read, new werewolves are especially prone to lash out in a rage and unlikely to remember their actions. This beast in you simply directed the need for blood at myself because of your anger at me, and I say that without giving you blame." 

Will held the sketch, examining it carefully before looking back up at Hannibal. "How-how did you manage to stop me?," he asked, and Hannibal felt a twinge of sympathy for Will as he saw the fear in his eyes.

"I managed to knock you out with a book. From there I carried you to my basement and tied you down to see if what I thought was true was the case. Sure enough, a few hours later my dear Will began to take shape."

Will shifted uncomfortably under Hannibal's gaze. Atop his horror, he was both ashamed and humiliated that Dr. Lecter had seen him in such a state, so very out of control. He could feel himself blushing and was angry at himself for it.

"You needn't be embarrassed, Will. If anything, I'm glad you came to me in what is likely your first transformation. It kept you from hurting anyone else or yourself, and now we can figure out how to get through this together."

Will moved his neck and winced, still sore from the collar. "Get through it? Is there a cure?" In Will's rational mind,he felt as though he was playing along to a mad man's make believe, yet something stirred in the back of his mind that knew what he was hearing was true. Hannibal was a killer, but he wasn't crazy.

Hannibal hesitated, his eyes looking away from Will's as he shifted his weight. "I won't stop looking, but nothing I've read seems to be a credible way to reverse the condition." He squeezed Will's hand gently and added, "I promise we'll figure this out together." 

Will's heart swelled in his chest. The man that he held so much contempt for was before him, gentle as a lamb, caring for him at a time when it would have been all too easy to overtake him. Tears welled in his eyes and he closed them before Hannibal could see. He could feel himself blushing again. "Thank you, Doctor," he breathed, stifling the lump in his throat. Hannibal took a glass of water off the dresser and carefully cupped it under Will's mouth, holding his head up with his free hand. "You need to keep from getting dehydrated," Hannibal said as Will took a few sips. Will moaned as he felt the cool water on his dry throat. He hadn't realised how thirsty he had been. "Be slow, now, small sips, don't make yourself sick," Hannibal coaxed. After Will was sated, he placed the glass back on the dresser and gently laid Will's head back on the pillow, mindful of his sore neck. Will turned, looking gratefully at Hannibal. His entire body ached from his form being twisted from one being to another, and yet he began to feel a small sense of relief. His eyes half opened, he thanked Hannibal, feeling he was about to doze off again. "Don't go to sleep just yet," Hannibal said, getting up from his perch. "I'll be back in a moment." He walked out the door in the hall. 

I minute later he returned, damp cloth in hand. "Your core temperature may naturally be a bit higher, but you've been sweating quite a bit. Let me cool you down a bit before you go back to resting to prevent fever." Will sleepily nodded, eyes fighting to stay open. Hannibal pulled back the sheets. "You may be cold, but try to not use the sheets if you can bear it."

Will thought he was simply going to lay the cool cloth on his forehead, and opened his eyes startled as he felt Hannibal untying the robe. 

Hannibal's eyes met Will's and smiled in amusement. "No need to be so shy, Will. You're hardly the first patient I've seen without clothing," he teased. All the same, Will felt his cheeks burning red. Will was a very private person, and was especially uninclined to want Hannibal-or anyone, for that matter- to see him in his current hirsute state. "Maybe so, but how many of them have been in your bed?"

Hannibal chuckled in response. He gently slid the robe down off Wills shoulders and tugged it from underneath him, leaving Will bare. Hannibal laid the robe on a chair in the corner, and then began to bathe Will with the cloth. 

He started by going over Will's face, and the chill of the cool cloth was heavenly on his near feverish skin. He closed his eyes and tried to focus simply on the feeling rather than his own shyness. 

Hannibal was extremely careful in his touch to Will's neck, but Will still yelped at the sensation of something so cool contacting his pained flesh. Hannibal paused, but Will seemed to relax at the touch once the initial startle passed. "I'm sorry to scare you, Will," he said, and moved onto his chest. 

Will looked up at his reflection in the mirror in tired disgust. His torso, groin and legs were all covered in much more hair than he'd ever had, and here he was in front of Hannibal, giving him a show of it all. Were this any other time, he'd be twice as mortified as he was now; as it currently stood, he simply hadn't the energy to care that much. He left his mind drift as the cool of the cloth made its way over his stomach, arms, and legs. He let himself relax, sinking a bit further into the bed, focusing on the relief that Dr. Lecter's care was bringing him.

Once Hannibal was finished, he left for a moment to put the cloth away before coming back to check on Will. Will, his eyes heavy with sleep, looked up at him thankfully. Hannibal stroked Will's hair and asked him if he needed anything else before he left him to rest.

"I think you've done more than enough already, Doctor," Will said, smiling weakly up at Hannibal. "Thank you....ah!" 

Will let out a soft, surprised gasp as Hannibal kissed his forehead in response. Hannibal looked at him, hesitant, but Will's eyes met his and it was not in upset. "I... I don't mind it, Dr. Lecter, I just wasn't expecting---," Will's words trailed off as Hannibal kissed him again, this time on the cheek, lingering there for a few seconds before moving to have their lips meet. Hannibal 's lips hovering over Will's, he breathed, "Dr. Lecter is what patients call me. You can call me Hannibal." His lips met Will's mouth, partly open in both surprise and anticipation. Hannibal's soft lips locked onto his sent a shiver down Will's spine, and he was equally excited and surprised at his own excitement. He let out a small moan as he felt Hannibal's tongue find its way to his, and very willingly began to suck on it with what little energy he had. Hannibal rested his hand on Will's chest, not wanting the moment to end.

Will's breath quickened. His mind wanted to race, to make sense of the situation, but he was to overcome with emotion to focus on anything other than Hannibal's touch. 

Hannibal was enthralled hearing the small, throaty moans emanating from Will; having the power to give Will pleasure was incredibly alluring. One hand on Will's chest, he laid his other hand in Will's hair, fingering each curl with a lover's delight. After a small while, he lifted his head, breaking the contact of their kiss. Will opened his eyes and lifted his head pleadingly, desperate to have their connection. Hannibal looked at him pleasantly, and in almost a whisper said "I'm so sorry, Will, I didn't mean to take advantage. That was impulsive of me." 

Hannibal looked slightly flushed, an odd look for someone usually so put together. "I- you weren't taking advantage, I..." It was only then that Will realised in the excitement he'd gotten an erection an immediately laid back on his pillow, turning red. Hannibal followed Will's gaze and turned behind him, realising the same. Though he didn't say anything, Hannibal had a small, fleeting smile- a sign that perhaps his feelings weren't unreciprocated. 

Before Hannibal could say anything, Will shifted on his side so he was facing away from him. His entire body screamed at him for moving so quickly and yet he was too flustered to stop. Will let out a pained whimper, trying to restrain himself from wailing. Each muscle in his body seemed to be working against him. Every movement was  
accompanied by the sensation of popping and pulling in the wrong direction. He silently began to weep, and that only made him further humiliated since Hannibal was right behind him. The tears didn't stop.

"Forgive me for being untoward to you, Will. Please, don't hurt yourself own my account... I'll let you get your rest." Hannibal hesitated, and was about to stand up when he felt Will's hand on his.

"Thank you," Will said in almost a whisper, as squeezed Hannibal's hand weakly. "For helping me."

Hannibal's gaze was transfixed on their hands. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he replied, and he lowered his head to kiss Will's hand. His lips lingered on skin for a few moments before he carefully released him and made his way to the doorway. "I'll check on you in a little while." Will, still aroused and ashamed, had his back toward him still, but Hannibal could see him slightly nodding his head. He felt as though he could linger there forever, watching Will as he fell asleep; an archangel to protect him while he rest. After a while- Hannibal wasn't sure how long, being lost in thought- he left the room.


End file.
